Frustration
by Sisterspy
Summary: Sherlolly story; how Sherlock was responsible for ending Molly's engagement. Written from John's perspective. Molly stays at Baker Street the week before her wedding, John visits and finds Sherlock looking utterly lost. "Sherlock, what did you do this time?" Second chapter from Molly's perspective has just been added.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First Sherlock fanfic, English is not my native tongue, and this story hasn't been screened by my bèta. My apologies for any mistakes, of which there probably will be plenty. Sherlolly story, my take on how her engagement could have ended. Some sexual suggestions, but no explicit anything, just hints. If that will change, so will the rating. **

**Written from John's perspective. I have another chapter which is from Molly's perspective and I'm curious to see whether you guys like this and if I should post the next part. **

This is story I'll never post online, but if I could this is how I would have written it. I didn't tell write this down before, because I was unsure of how everything would turn out. Maybe this would be a very nice anecdote for their wedding, if he manages not to cock this up.

A week before Molly was going to be married to Tom, her fiancé. Because her apartment had already been cleared out and she simply refused to completely move in before the wedding (she's a bit old fashioned in these sort of things), Mrs. Hudson had been so kind as to offer her my old quarters. This was of course after asking Sherlock permission. Which, as I recall, went in the following fashion;

"Sherlock dear, you wouldn't mind if Molly stayed in John's old room for just a bit, would you now? It's just a few days until the wedding."

Because Sherlock had been so preoccupied by his current case he had not been paying attention, resulting in an absent wave of his hand and a muffled "Sure."

Dear old Mrs. Hudson had recorded their little agreement on her smartphone making Sherlock growl when being confronted with it. After realizing sulking wouldn't help him get anywhere, he was left with no choice but to let Molly stay.

I must mention that I had been slightly baffled by the change I'd observed in Molly towards Sherlock. She used to be the mousy little pathologist that would become butter the moment she was in my friend's presence. Since his return however she'd stopped stuttering and rambling, neither did she appear to be so uncomfortable around him anymore.

The second day of Molly's stay at Baker Street was also the last day she would see Tom before the wedding. Sherlock and I were working on the case of the Redhead association which proved to be very interesting. As usual my friend had taken up playing his violin, while clearing his head and solving the case in the process. I arrived at 221B around noon, the moment I stepped in Tom came storming down the stairs and while I stepped aside to let him pass he rushed out without a word, slamming the door so hard I feared it would break.

I made my way upstairs to hear the familiar sound of Sherlock's bedroom door being slammed shut and was rather surprised to find my friend standing in the living room, in his usual spot for playing his instrument. The thing that surprised me was the way he was standing there, violin and bow in his hands, hanging beside his body. Looking completely flustered and utterly lost, something I hadn't observed in all these years I've spent time with him.

"Sherlock, what did you do this time?" Was my first careful enquiry.

HeHe visibly swallowed and got even more flustered. A red blush, clearly visible on his normally pale skin, was spreading as far as his earlobes. This peculiarity made me even more curious.

"I…" Was all he stammered.

I settled myself down in my old chair and waited, but after a few minutes my annoyance rose and my patience had worn out. Sherlock hadn't moved and inch and still stood there with the same expression.

"Sherlock, tell me what happened or I'll ask Molly, after which I will most likely will be punching you, for being an ass!" I finally exclaimed, not being able to contain myself, feeling he'd done something very stupid.

He closed his eyes for a second and let go of a breath he seemed to have been holding for quite some time. Still holding his violin he let himself collapse on his own chair, immediately starting to study the ceiling he finally answered me, well sort of anyway.

"I was thinking, about how they needed this particular man to be at their office and not at his own place."

"Not about the case, you git! What happened with Molly and Tom?"

My friend bit his lower lip and continued, sounding even less sure of himself than before when he'd only stammered.

"As I said, I was thinking. Molly must have let Tom into the apartment. I stopped playing my violin at a certain moment due to…noises disrupting my thought pattern and then…"

He stopped and continued to stare at the ceiling.

"Yes…?"

"She called my name."

"Molly?"

He nodded slightly.

"Soooo….? Why is that important?"

He sighed.

"Because, she called it during the climax of their coïtus."

"Oh." Was all I managed to bring out.

His mouth had been open, but nothing seemed to follow.

"And?" I asked him, still half in shock.

"And, I heard them arguing for a second, Tom came here, Molly on his heels. She was almost in tears, clutching my sheets to cover herself. He was only half dressed , carrying the rest of his clothes and yelled at me that he should have known and that he hoped I would be good for her. After which he left and she didn't dare to face me, went back into my room and slammed the door. "

By this time I was surprised my jaw hadn't completely landed on the floor, but was unable to reply and just stared at him in unbelief. Eventually he turned angry and almost desperately pleaded with me.

"Dammit John, aren't you going to offer some ridiculous emotional insight that could possibly make this right?!"

After staying silent for a moment after his outburst, contemplating what I could possibly say that could make this any better, I realized what was going to come next. I wasn't disappointed.

"Nothing then?!" He exclaimed while jumping up from his chair and started to pace around like a mad men. "This is all YOUR fault, you know!"

I sighed. "Of course it is."

He stopped only to point a finger in my general direction. "If you hadn't gotten married and moved out she wouldn't have stayed here and used my bed for their fornication!"

"Excuse me, but did you just say 'your bed'?"

"Yes!"

"And why would she feel the need to use your bed? She of all people should know you would…oh. She wanted you to notice. Which brings me back to…What the hell did you do this time?!"

I couldn't imagine Molly would ever go so far unless Sherlock had succeeded in driving her completely out of her mind, which unfortunately was one of his many specialties. Now it was his turn to sigh.

"She just got upset over some insignificant things."

"Oh, just some insignificant things, huh?"

"Precisely."

"SHERLOCK…what…did…you…do?!" I asked through grinded teeth and with very little patience left.

And then it finally came, I hadn't expected him to be so childish about it; because by now he should know that I can look through that façade of his.

"This morning she found me walking around in my sheet and that seemed to frustrate her somehow. Later on I needed to take a shower, but she was already occupying it. Seemed only logical to me to save water and join her, something she didn't seem to appreciate either. After which I needed to find out how much weight the elastic in a pair of knickers could carry so I borrowed some of hers, she then ruined the entire experiment by snatching them away and demanded I got dressed, I obeyed in hopes of lessening her fury, but she growled at my choice of shirt. Even though I am certain that this shirt makes me aesthetically pleasing to look at."

"The shirt, which I think makes you look like an aubergine?"

"You're horrible with colors; it's more of a boysenberry shade. But anyway, I then started playing the violin to assemble my thoughts and she started to slam with doors! You're already aware of the rest, so you must agree that her reaction is rather unreasonable. I merely can't understand her being so fed up with me!"

I simply couldn't take it anymore; this was by far the most unsociable thing to do to a lady friend, even more so because of her upcoming wedding. I pointed at the closed door of his bedroom, the place where she had retreated after Tom's departure.

"You go in there right now, and you fix this, and I mean RIGHT NOW!"

"Why?" He dared to ask me, sounding almost as if I'd insulted him. The urge to strangle him nearly overcame me, but somehow I managed to resist.

"Because…, you insufferable prick, you may not have been entirely aware of what you were doing to her, but I'm telling you now, and you're going in there and take care of this like a man."

His expression turned rather alarmed.

"And how exactly would that be?" His voice containing just the tiniest hint of fear.

"You know, for a genius you can be so daft." I sighed in frustration.

"She's been in love with you for years, but every time she's interested in someone else and tries to move on, you have to ruin it for her."

"I've never…."

"DON'T YOU BLOODY DARE TO DENY IT!"

"But her dating…."

"NO, NO, BLOODY HELL NO!" I couldn't imagine myself being more agitated with him on this subject, especially for being so stupendously blind. Or merely pretending to be, because as much as he denied it, I was pretty sure he was aware, at least on some level, of what he was doing to her.

"You, just don't want her to be with anyone else; And to ensure that you even manipulated the situation in a way that Tom would break things off with her!"

"I did no such thing!" was his exclamation, but his face betrayed him, I knew him long enough to recognize that half-confused, half-insulted look on him.

"No, you just made sure she became as sexually frustrated as she could possibly be and have her ruin her engagement on her own. Does that sound about right?"

Another familiar expression, him sulking, told me it was. I wasn't sure how much Molly would have heard from our conversation, but no matter how angry she was with him right now, I knew that if he would play this right she would forgive him. She was the only woman I think he ever truly trusted, and he sure as hell didn't deserve her. Still, he needed to go in there, apologize and do something about the frustration he'd so unkindly had evoked in her.

I took a quick glance at my watch.

"I'll be back in three hours to make sure she hasn't murdered you, or maybe just help clean up the mess. You better have solved this then, otherwise I will kill you myself."

I closed the door behind me, leaving a mortified Sherlock behind.

**A/N: So? Any constructive criticism that would help me improve any of this? Should I upload a second part?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, I haven't had time to reply to all of them and will do so after I posted this chapter. This part is from Molly's perspective and I hope it will give some more fun details of all the horrible frustration Sherlock is causing Molly. Enjoy!**

One week, just one week and she would have been married. My ultimate test to see whether I really was over him, and I it failed in the most horrific way. How could he have done this to me, surely he must have known what he was doing to me. Why couldn't he just leave me in peace?! I couldn't stop sobbing in Sherlock's pillow, which smelled deliciously like him, but only worsened my crying. Still clutching his sheets around my bare body I forced myself to sit upright as John's voice penetrated the wall in angry waves. He was asking Sherlock what he'd done this time, sniffling and half suppressing a manic giggle I thought of the things that had left me naked, alone and ring-less in his bedroom.

She'd begun her morning thinking Sherlock wasn't home and went out of her bedroom in her nightgown, but she'd found him reading a book on the couch in lotus position. That wouldn't have such a bad thing if it wasn't for the fact that he was only clad in his bed sheets, which were only covering one particularly area, leaving very little to her already overactive imagination. All of his limps exposed, torso completely on display and just a small stroke of sheet lying over his lap, just low enough to see his hip bones and nearly all he had to offer.

She'd felt her blood rush to her cheeks and warmth pooling in the lower part of her abdomen and hadn't known how to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible, still being able to mumble something about showering. The first five minutes she needed water just above freezing temperature to cool her down, but just as her skin had gotten used to the warmth she was under and her hair was filled with shampoo, she heard Sherlock enter the bathroom. She cursed herself for leaving it unlocked out of habit and tried to calm herself down, he was probably just in there to brush his teeth. She should have known better.

He calmly stated that he needed to shower, after which a rustling sound made her aware of his bed sheets becoming a pile on the ground. She'd screamed as he'd stepped into the shower cabin and frantically tried to cover herself up with her arms, no shower curtain to hide behind.

"What are you doing?!" She'd yelled.

"Showering" Had his only answer been, while pulling a face like it was the weirdest question. She hadn't dared to meet his eyes, neither the courage to look down, too frightened to find out what was poking her abdomen. Hastily she'd rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and scrambled to get away from him, grabbing a towel as she exited the bathroom.

Locking herself in John's old bedroom before starting to look for clothes. Strangely enough her suitcase was missing and so was the little box that held the lingerie for her wedding night. But she didn't dare to look for any of it with just a small towel wrapped around her. Neither was she going back to get her nightgown while Sherlock was still very much naked under that shower. Suspiciously, Sherlock's lab coat was draped over her bedpost. Hearing the shower being turned off she hurried into the coat. Of course Sherlock being quite tall she'd nearly drowned in the bloody thing. Frustrated she'd sat down on her bed to contemplate whether it was better to jump out of the window or make a sprint to the doors in hopes of avoiding Sherlock, preferably for the rest of her life.

After regaining enough courage to go and look for her suitcase she was greeted by the sight of a freshly showered Sherlock…still just clad in his bed sheets…stretching the lingerie for her wedding night at its maximum…near the bluish flame of a Bunsen burner. Angrily she'd snatched the knickers and matching corset from his grasp.

"For God sake, Sherlock! Why on earth did you think it was okay to experiment with my panties?! And where the hell are the rest of my clothes." He'd nearly gotten her to her breaking point and she was barely able to contain herself.

He'd looked at her with a strange tender look, making her feel even more self-conscious about only wearing his lab coat.

"Hmm, why would you need any more clothes? This looks lovely on you." He fished a navy striped thong from a pile that could only have gotten out of her suitcase and contained every piece of underwear she'd brought. "Also, I needed to test the strength of the fabric and its flammability. Tom wouldn't have liked the white set anyways."

He did it again, trapped her into asking a question she didn't want to know the answer to.

"Why wouldn't he like it?"

His broad smile had only increased her fear.

"Glad you asked. You see Tom's porn preference indicate that he is more attracted to women of Asian origin, and he likes them best in red. Red doesn't suit you though, neither do light and powdery colors. Makes you look very pale. Black or navy blue would do wonders for your complexion, even coral perhaps."

She stopped him with a slap to his cheek.

"Stop it!"

Swallowing her anger and perhaps the slight arousal of being so close to a naked Sherlock she took a deep breath.

"Just get dressed, and get out of those awful bed sheets or the next time they will be covered in itching powder and you won't be able to sleep in your own bed for the next few days." She'd known it was a childish thing to say, but as she was dealing with a man-child she'd thought it to be justified. The second after the words had come out of her mouth, she'd already regretted them. Sherlock had taken just a small step closer, bended his head down to hers and spoken words that caused her to shiver all over.

"Then I'll just have to sleep in your bed."

Her hormones were on a rampage through her body as her heart rate quickened, causing her to feel the signs of arousal all over.

"Just…get…dressed." She'd barely managed to squeak.

"Fine." His voice had come out as slight growl dramatically dropping his bed sheets half way to his bed room, slamming the door behind his…well behind. A behind that she was unable to get out of her head, worsening her arousal, only adding to the collection of images that swum through her head. Everywhere she looked she'd begun to see opportunities to snog and shag the daylight out of him and with those her mind had already begun to create images that made her desperate for relieve.

She took a moment to steady her breathing and got her phone.

**_Screw waiting! I need you here at Baker Street, right now. We're not having lunch, but I'm dying for you to be my dessert. Xxx MH_**

She knew Tom was a bit daft, but even he would get what she had planned. If Sherlock wanted to annoy her and make her uncomfortable he'd definitely succeeded, but now it was her turn. Shagging Tom upstairs and doing so very loudly for the rest of the afternoon would certainly not please the consulting detective.

Five minutes before Tom arrived; Sherlock had come out of his room dressed in that cursed purple dress shirt and very tight trousers. He'd looked at her with a somewhat smug grin and taken up the violin to play. It was mesmerizing sight and she couldn't help but stare at him. His hips ever swaying so slowly, the beautiful sound he produced with those hands, the way he would place emotions in his music he rarely would show in real life.

Realization had dawned on her; all she would ever want was him, and only him. Then Tom had rung, very much in anticipation of being ravished. She still had been very much aroused and angry causing her to slam the first door she met shut. After which she had, in what she now thought to be a moment of insanity, lead Tom to Sherlock's bedroom. She'd closed her eyes and pretended, so while reality had begun to fade away, her imagination had taken over and at his first touch she'd found her release with his name on her lips. In horror she'd opened her eyes, to see Tom look at her in confusion and disgust, no shirt and his belt undone. He'd yelled at her, how he'd known all this time that she'd never loved him and how she'd been distant. He'd ripped off her ring and no pleading could stop him. Clothes assembled in a bundle he'd made his way to the door. In the realization of her own nakedness she'd wrapped herself in Sherlock's bed sheet, sprinting after him. While Tom had thrown Sherlock some angry words she'd locked herself in his bedroom too embarrassed to face the consequences of her action.

Now she was still sitting here, in his bedroom, surrounded by the intoxicating smell of him listening to John reprimanding Sherlock.

His last sentence wasn't as loud, but she could hear him just fine.

"I'll be back in three hours to make sure she hasn't murdered you, or maybe just help clean up the mess. You better have solved this then, otherwise I will kill you myself."

Her blood ran cold, unsure whether she could face any of this right now. But could've John been right? That Sherlock had been undermining every single one of her relationships because he wanted her for himself?

Silence followed as she heard the front door shut, signaling John's departure. The door was locked, but slight sounds of ticking metal made her aware he was picking the lock. Any second now she would have to face the source of her frustration.

**A/N: I know! I'm a horrible person for ending it here, but for the next part I needed it to be from Sherlocks perspective. I'll update within a week, hopefully sooner! What would you like to hear from our favorite consulting detective? Apologies, a declaration of love, the typical 'i'm a sociopath and therefore not relationship material' thingy? I have stuff planned, but I'm always curious whether it will be very predictable!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sincerely sorry for not posting any sooner. I've been on a field trip with my fellow soon to be teachers and still trying to finish both internships at the same time, so weeks flew by and I completely forgot to finish this! So this is the last part, while I could continue this, I don't think I will. Until the end of June, my agenda is unfortunately very filled up. Hope you guys will enjoy this part!**

Chapter 3

As soon as he heard John closing the front door behind him, Sherlocks mind began to work overtime. Trying to find a way out of the situation he'd gotten himself into. But, as he contemplated completely ignoring the situation altogether and have Mycroft relocate Molly to another continent, realization began to dawn on him.

He needed to face the consequence of his actions.

Screwing up someone's engagement was something entirely different from ridiculing one's date. Molly would have to cancel a wedding, not just dinner plans. He brought back memories of John and Mary's wedding and the weeks of preparation that had preceded it, making the extent of his actions even clearer.

A plan started to spring from his mind, but as details and possibilities flowed freely through his mind palace, he was stopped by a slap from Molly.

"Stop it, Sherlock, just stop it! I need you to focus!"

The Molly in his mind palace was clad in nothing but his labcoat just as the real Molly had been before.

"It's not like in the movies; you can't just arrange everything without consulting me first and expect me to be okay with it."

"But, you've always loved me. I admit to thinking it was only a slight infatuation at first, but you persisted; instead of being repelled like most, it only seemed to deepen your affection."

"Yes, it did, and yes I've always loved you. But still; if you want me to take the leap, you need to be the first to jump off the cliff."

Molly and his lab coat disappeared, leaving him standing in his own livingroom again. He took a deep breath and started to make his way to his bedroom door, taking his lock picking tools from out of their hiding place. The door was open in a matter of seconds, revealing Molly on the right side of his bed; at least they wouldn't be arguing about who was going to get which side.

She'd covered herself completelyin his sheet, even if he could see she was still wearing her undergarments. As she was facing away from him, he stared at her back for a moment, before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Molly." He started, seeing her flinch at the sound of his voice. "I know the walls are thin, and therefore you must have heard John's words. I admit to manipulating you, although I never would have hadn't you been here. I am deeply sort for causing you any embarrassment or inconvenience, though in truth I cannot apologize nor be in any form sorry for the ending of your engagement. For I do not wish for you to be with any other man, than me."

Molly rolled herself over, her eyes displaying the shock he'd just giving her with his words.

"John was right?"

"Yes, quite so, I'm afraid." He looked just a tiny bit nervous. "So, if you haven't come to hate me, within the last fifteen minutes or so, would you perhaps consider marrying me this Sunday?" He ignored her gasp to ramble on. "I know that some things weren't entirely your taste and we would have to get another cake, different location, lingerie and a wedding dress you haven't let your friend Meena and that creature who supposedly goes by as Tom's mother talk you into wearing, and of course we'd still have to cancel half of the guests, seeing as they belonged to his family and… " He stopped his spur of words as he saw Molly's expression go from shock to horror and then outright panic. "What?" He enquired. "What is it?"

She had to take a deep breath before being able to answer. "It's just,…marrying? Do you even know what that entails, Sherlock?" She asked him quietly, unsure of her own voice, afraid of this little spark of hope to be just a fleeting moment.

His forehead formed deep crinkles. "Well of course, it means that you would introduce yourself to the world as being my other piece. The thing that completes both you and me, and joins us as one."

He lay down beside her on his side, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I can't imagine anyone being a better fit than you, and while I may not be your best fit, I am willing to try everything in my power to change that; willing to learn, and I have been previously told that I'm a fairly quick learner." His genuine smile matched hers as his words landed in her heart.

"My final argument for your agreement to such ridiculous proposal could only be that while I don't completely understand it, I seem to love you very much and do not wish to be apart from you any longer. So again, I'm asking you, Molly Hooper, will you marry me this Sunday?"

She popped herself up to sit on her knees, still beside him on the bed.

"You silly man!"

She exclaimed and claimed his lips with a searing kiss. He released a small gasp at her actions, but quickly regained his composure, taking over the lead. One hand was tugging at the curls at nape of his neck, her other was dangerously wandering lower. He slowed them down and lay her down on her back, leaning back a little while stopping one of her hands before he would completely lose his self-control.

"Can I take that as yes, Miss Hooper?" He asked her, a little out of breath.

His glowing Molly lifted herself up a bit to whisper in his ear. "Yes, Mr. Holmes, I'm yours."

And with those words his mind came to rest, and was he finally able to focus on a task he'd been wanting to complete all day; to relieve her from all the frustration he'd managed to build up in both her and him. After all, they did have a wedding to adjust and he was planning on having a very relaxed bride.

**A/N: Sooooooo...how was that?! Disappointed? Does it need change, did I screw up somewhere? Please tell me! **


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